


Superheroes

by forfitzsimmons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Original Character Death(s), Sorry Not Sorry, aggressive!Fitz, badass!Fitzsimmons, don't ask why just read it, hydra!Fitz, super powers, super!fitzsimmons, there will be robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forfitzsimmons/pseuds/forfitzsimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma Simmons breaks into a HYDRA facility, she didn't expect to find someone like Leopold Fitz. Grumpy, uncooperative, and absolutely horrified about the idea of 'heroes', Fitz doesn't care what side he's on as long as people leave him alone. He wasn't planning on that changing anytime soon, but Jemma swears to bring him over to S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dr. Leopold Fitz

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super excited to get started on this. I've had this idea running around in my head for awhile now about what Fitz and Jemma would have as superpowers and it evolved into this lovely angst-y adorable mess of a fic. I hope you enjoy the first chapter! I'll try to update every week, but no promises just yet because school and obligations (ew). I apologize if the first chapter is a little iffy, I wrote it a long while ago, but I promise the story is worth it and next chapter will be newly written and will probably read much better.

“Took ya long enough to get here.” A Scottish accent reached Jemma’s ears.

She stood at the entrance to one of HYDRA’s labs, glaring at the back of a HYDRA scientist. All she could see were his sandy curls and exceptionally pale skin. He obviously didn’t get out much.

“Expecting me?” She held her chin high.

He turned just slightly, just enough to see the tip of his nose. “Yeah, saw ya comin’. Wasn’t expecting the accent though. English? Liverpool, maybe? I always figured SHIELD would send some overpowered American specialist, not a tiny English girl.”

Jemma scoffed. “I am more than enough for a standard HYDRA facility. Now then, I suggest you step away or I’ll be forced to show you how qualified I am.”

“I think I’ll stay, thanks. I already know how qualified you are anyway, Dr. Simmons.”

Jemma resisted stepping back, “How do you know who I am?”

“If the information exists somewhere, I can find it. Easily. I saw your little trick in the hallways before you broke my poor cameras. How’d ya manage that? Mutation?” He finally turned around to face her, even looked her up and down.

She was struck by how young he looked, despite the deep bags under his eyes. “There are no security monitors here.”

He just smirked. “I think ya should probably be on your way, Dr. Simmons. I know you looked me up before comin’. I’m the only one allowed to be in here. Anyone else, well, doesn’t quite make it out.”

“I do know who you are, Dr. Fitz. If you cooperate, perhaps you could even join SHIELD. We could use skills like yours.”

“No thanks. I like where I am.” He turned back around.

“Using your inventions for evil?” She frowned.

“Good, evil, all a bunch ‘a nonsense if ya ask me. I make stuff, they take it, and I make more stuff or update previous things. Plus, I get my own lab and people leave me alone. What my stuff is used for is none of my business.”

“Yes it is! Those things you make could help people rather than hurt them. You could be a hero!”

He spun around, snarl clear on his face, “There is no such thing as _heroes_.”

Suddenly, panels on the walls opened and revealed various weapons, from small missiles to guns rigged to shoot on their own. All of them were pointed at her.

“Do you understand, now? Take one more step and you’ll have a dozen bullets through your big brain. Those plants ‘a yours can’t protect you from that.”

Jemma’s glare intensified, but Dr. Fitz ignored her. “I’ll be back, Dr. Fitz.”

“And I’ll be ready to shoot ya, Dr. Simmons.”

She turned heel and left the HYDRA lab, feeling like she’d lost despite stealing all of HYDRA’s research from the facility and taking out a bunch of HYDRA henchmen.

She met her ride at the extraction point and began going over what she’d need to report to Director Coulson. Jemma checked her pockets to assure herself that she still had the hard drive and smiled when she did. All the information would put them ten steps closer to beating HYDRA.

Just thinking about the terrorist agency make her sick. It also made her wonder about Dr. Fitz. He didn’t want to leave, but he certainly didn’t care about anyone there since he hadn’t moved to help the others. It still puzzled her how he’d seen her when there weren’t security monitors in his lab, or how he knew who she was. Any information on her was more than secure or erased completely, Skye had made sure of that.

Those thoughts followed her back into the Playground and to her debriefing with the Director in his office.

Coulson gestured for her to sit. “What do you have for me, Simmons?”

“Mostly good news, Sir.”

“Mostly?”

“Yes. I retrieved this hard drive from the facility and wiped their computers with that virus Skye gave me.” Jemma pulled out the hard drive and handed it to him. “I also took out all of the HYDRA henchmen there. Except one.”

“One? That’s not so bad, Simmons.”

“Sir, this person was the reason for the facility. The entire place practically belongs to him.”

“An entire facility for one person?”

“I’m sure of it. The facility is for Dr. Leopold Fitz, HYDRA’s lead engineer. He… outgunned me to say the least.”

“He’s going to be a problem then?”

Jemma paused. “Well, Sir, I-I want to bring him in. To join SHIELD.”

Coulson rose his eyebrows, “You think that’s a good idea?”

“He’s not evil, Sir! Apathetic, yes, but not evil. Besides, we could use his skills. Mack can only do so much compared to Dr. Fitz. I did some research on my way back and he’s a certified genius! Graduated high school at 14, got his PhD at 18, and has never made anything that wasn’t nearly indestructible.”

Coulson was silent. Jemma bit her lip. Did he think it was a bad idea? Perhaps it really was, but she was sure she could bring him over.

“You know, last time someone brought in an enemy, we thought we’d have to put her down.”

Her stomach dropped, “Oh…”

“But,” he continued, “Then she became one of the best and helped save millions of people. If you think he can be persuaded, try it, but no suicide missions, Simmons. I mean it. I can’t lose you.”

Jemma grinned. “Of course, Sir! I’ll do my best.”

* * *

 

Jemma spied him from her spot on a weathered bench. Sunglasses hid her eyes and she hid her face behind a newspaper. He was standing in front of a café, seeming to decide whether he should go in or not. His movements seemed a bit exaggerated, leaving Jemma on edge. That and the strange, skin-colored gloves he wore. Why would someone wear fitted rubber gloves? She recalled him wearing them at the lab too.

Something touched her shoulder and she jumped, trying to hit it. The thing dodged and flew in front of her face. It looked like a snitch from Harry Potter, except made of steel. The bottom of it opened up and dropped a square piece of paper into her lap. Jemma glanced at it warily, but unfolded it.

The handwriting was neat and precise. It read, _You’re a terrible spy, Dr. Simmons. I saw you coming. Again. You might want to try a bit harder, and lose the cliché spy gear. You’re not James Bond._

Jemma huffed and looked up to glare at Dr. Fitz, but he was gone. The snitch buzzed away and Jemma put the paper down.

“I’ll never bloody catch him this way.” She watched the snitch buzz off. An idea struck her. Jemma shot up and began following the little gadget. She took off her jacket and changed her hairstyle as she walked. She took a purse out and threw the shopping bag she’d had in a trashcan.  She changed her sunglasses and dropped the others into her bag.

There was a blinking light on the back of the snitch. Jemma was sure it had to be a homing signal of some sort. Her thought was confirmed when she followed it to a small townhouse. It flew through a cat door and disappeared from sight.

She went up the steps to the door and knocked. Jemma was surprised at the apparent lack of tech outside his door. All she could see was a metal nameplate on the door. After a few moments, she heard some static and looked up to see that the nameplate had been replaced by a screen. Dr. Fitz was on it, toweling off his curls. Jemma guessed he had just taken a shower from the way his jumper clung to him in spots. Jemma felt her face go a bit warm.

“Honestly, Dr. Simmons? Followin’ me home?”

“Let me in, Dr. Fitz.”

“I think not.” He got comfortable at his desk.

“I just want to have a professional conversation with you.” She noticed the gloves again.

“Ya can do that while outside. I don’t need those plants ‘a yours anywhere near me.”

“I could always just break the door down.” She smirked.

He smirked back, “Good luck getting through the reinforced steel. Nothing I make breaks, Dr. Simmons. Remember that.”

“Even you?”

He froze for a moment. “Yes.” The screen shut off and returned to being a nameplate.

She huffed, banging on the door. “Leopold Fitz, open the door!” The metal plate moved up to reveal a hole and a small gun barrel popped at, pointed straight at her head. “I’m not intimidated by your little toys.” She ignored the nagging voice in her head that kept saying, _“Yes you are, that thing is going to shoot you straight in the head. Vines can’t protect you from bullets.”_

The gun was pulled back and the screen returned, but there was no picture of Fitz. There were only words.

I’LL SHOW YOU HOW INTIMIDATING I CAN BE.

The door lock clicked. Something told Jemma this was a very bad idea and that a woman with two PhD's and an exceptionally high IQ should know better than to open the door and step inside. On the other hand, she was also sure this may be the only chance she’d get. Besides, if she backed out now, Fitz would never respect her. With that in mind, she turned the door knob, which felt oddly rubbery, and pushed the door open, stepping inside and nervously closing it behind her.


	2. Dr. Jemma Simmons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the update! You get a glimpse of Fitz's powers...

It had been less than two weeks since Fitz met Dr. Simmons. It had also been less than a week since he’d let her into his house, a decision he chastised and congratulated himself on both because of its sheer stupidity and because of its result. In the end, talking to Dr. Simmons hadn’t been so bad—not that they’d done too much talking, but still. It’d gone quite well, really.

He came out of his office to meet her in his living room. He took a moment to look her over, and he was not ashamed to add an ‘again’ to that. Her new look was definitely less conspicuous and Fitz had hoped she’d get rid of the terrible jacket she'd been sporting earlier. She certainly looked much better without it, now that he could see the exact angle of how her sundress curved in at her waist and out at her hips and the lengths of her legs. He felt a bit warm all of a sudden and blamed it on the hot shower.

“Well, then, Dr. Simmons,” he plopped down onto his couch. He hoped the unblinking stare would intimidate her, considering he was a pale, skinny, Scottish scientist. “What sort of professional conversation were ya looking to have?”

She didn’t sit down. “One about you joining S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Ya should probably sit down before the sensors think you’re a threat. They’ll shoot ya down real fast.”

She swallowed slightly and he observed her careful movements as she sat on a chair across from him. He smirked, she frowned.

“Let me guess. If I don’t cooperate, guns will come out of the armrests and shoot me.”

“Not so, lass. I’m a weapons engineer, not insane.” He chuckled at her incredulous expression.

“I beg to differ. If not insane, then you must just be bonkers.”

“Well, then ya’d be bonkers for wantin’ to see me.”

She shifted slightly in her seat. “Yes, well, this is important business.”

“The answer is no.” Fitz leaned back, a little satisfied by how her gaze followed the stretch of his body. “I like my lab. I can do what I like and no one bothers me.” He smirked again, “Or should I say no one _dares_ to bother me.”

“You could be helping people—.”

“Oh, not this bit again.”

“And I have no idea why you get so pissy over the word—.”

“Don’t say it.” He stood up, leaning over her. He felt a spark run down his arms. “I don’t do the save the world crap that ya seem to be so fond of. Ya know why? Because it’s never gonna happen.”

Dr. Simmons shot up as well and leaned in close with a scowl. “Why must you be such a pessimistic prick? Did you never take an ethics class in your life or do you just not care about the well-being of others?”

“I’m a realist, and why the hell should I care about other people? I invent things for me. Not them.”

“And what does your mum think of that?”

“Ha! Is that the best your triple digit IQ could come up with? I haven’t seen my mum since I was bloody fourteen and I don’t care to.” More sparks gathered at his hands.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem then. Nobody has bothered to care about you and so you feel the need to take it out on everybody else!”

“I’m not taking anything out on anyone! I’m just staying in my lab doing what I like to do. That’s it.” Fitz felt the sparks rise out of his hands and he struggled to push them back.

They stayed like that, scowling and breathing heavily in each other's faces. Fitz couldn’t help but notice how much brighter her eyes were up close, how they were just absolutely _on fire_.

So, he kissed her.

He would’ve stopped and tried to pass it off as trying to head-butt her, but decided that wasn’t needed when she kissed back with as much fervor as there was fire in her eyes. They didn’t do too much talking after that.

Just thinking about it made him grin. To be honest, Dr. Simmons was just about everything he’d ever wanted. She was intelligent and they could discuss theories and possible things one could make out of spare parts in a med pod without missing a beat. She was beautiful and, despite the good girl vibe he got from her, she was actually _very_ good in bed.

Plus, she hadn’t asked about the gloves. He could tell it was on the tip of her tongue, but she hadn’t brought it up so far. He planned to avoid that conversation.

So, he was sitting at a café waiting for Dr. Simmons to show up. Apparently the director was still under the impression she could convert him, and she did still try, so their meetings had to seem almost coincidental. It was annoying to say the least, but he’d been through worse things.

He looked up from his tea just as Dr. Simmons sat down. She was wearing a ridiculous pair of over-sized sunglasses and Fitz wondered why she thought that would make her less conspicuous.

“Take the bloody glasses off. Ya look ridiculous.”

Dr. Simmons huffed, but took them off anyways. Though, she smiled slightly when she noticed the second cup of tea.

“Just the way I like it?”

“A’ course. Why would it be any other way?”

She sipped at her tea and nodded her approval. She rubbed her fingers along the cup and bit her lip. Fitz felt a sense of dread.

“Alright, spit it out.”

“Spit what out, Dr. Fitz?”

“You can’t lie for shite. You know that, right?”

She shifted a bit in her seat, “Well, I’ve been curious about…”

He sighed. “The gloves?” She nodded. “Well, stop bein’ curious.”

“I’m a scientist! I can’t just stop being curious.” She pouted and his attention was momentarily shifted to how her bottom lip puffed out. “Dr. Fitz!”

“W-what? Oh, well, you’ll have to live with it because I’m not talking about it.” He sat straighter.

“Then that means they do serve a purpose.”

“Dr. Simmons,” he warned.

“Fine, I’ll leave it alone.”

_Bullshite she will. She’ll be askin’ about it again soon enough._

“So, then, how’re things on your end? The director gettin’ frustrated yet?” He wasn't sure why he asked since just thinking about S.H.I.E.L.D. gave him a headache. He supposed he was still raised with manners after all, and Director Coulson was why they could meet so often.

“Not quite yet, I don’t think. He hasn’t needed me on other missions recently, so I don’t think he’s been bothered by it much. You?”

“No one ever bothers me to begin with. Hell, no one even bothered to visit after ya busted the lab.” He smirked, “Not that ya got all that far.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t fond of the idea of a dozen bullets in my head.”

“Ya wanna know the best part a’ that?” He drank some tea. “None a’ those guns were loaded.”

She gaped at him. Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression.

“All of them were empty? No ballistics at all?”

“Not a one,” he grinned. “I don’t need guns to scare people off, Dr. Simmons—or make them leave.”

“So I’ve seen in your file,” she frowned. “Five different casualties from HYDRA agents entering your lab in the month before I visited—.”

“—You call that visiting?—”

“—And in the past year there were over thirty ‘lab accidents’ at your facility.”

“I don’t know if they’d technically be called accidents really, just people being stupid and trying to touch my things.”

“And you do so hate to share, don’t you?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

Fitz laughed, “That I do. You know me too well, lass.”

“So, how did you do it then? It said all of them had severe burns.”

Fitz’s smile dropped. “That, lass, is a secret I’m not about to tell.”

“Then tell me how you knew I was coming. There were no security monitors in the lab.”

“I don’t need ‘em. If I tell you that, you tell me how you ended up with those plants a’ yours. Deal?”

She bit her lip. “Well… alright, I suppose.”

Fitz’s smile returned. “Technopathy.”

“What? Be real, Dr. Fitz.”

“I am. I’m a technopath. It just means I’m wired to interpret radio waves and the like. Essentially I can ‘communicate’, so to speak, with any tech. It’s how I knew you’d searched for me. I got my own little… system set up so I know when something I tagged is being looked at or searched. As for the cameras, I always have an eye—or rather a part of my brain—on the footage.” He sat back in his chair. “Your turn.”

“Well, a few years ago I was experimenting with a type of plant that seemed almost parasitic. I dropped the scalpel I was using and I got a cut on my hand. I had to decontaminate my hand, but I suppose a seed or something had stuck onto the scalpel and then got into my hand through the cut.”

“So, you’ve got a parasitic plant living inside you, and you’ve got to, um, be bleeding to…”

“Yes, I have to be bleeding to use it. It seems to feed off the iron in my blood and when it is exposed to the air it grows."

"Jesus, that's freaky. So you get a scrape and then you've got vines growin' out 'a ya?" Fitz shivered.

"Well I've learned to control it a bit, so that doesn't happen anymore at least." She shrugged. "It _does_  makes me a bit anemic, but," she dug around in her purse and pulled out a bottle of pills, "I just have to take more iron supplements and handle myself carefully." Fitz couldn't fathom how she was so accepting of a parasitic plant feeding off her blood like some vampire vine. 

He noticed her eyes had drifted to his gloves again. He coughed to get her attention and shot her a warning glare.

“Fitz—“ She didn't bother with the title this time.

“I mean it, Simmons. Lay off the gloves.”

She huffed, but seemed to be properly chastised by Fitz’s warning for now. Her eyes came back to his face.

“Why do you hate the idea of heroes?” A solemn look crossed her face, like she was aware this would be a sensitive topic for him.

Fitz froze. His jaw clenched and his hands almost automatically formed into fists. Simmons put a hand over one of his and smoothed a thumb over his knuckles. He stared down at the table.

 _Is that something I want to tell her?_ Fitz wondered if Simmons really wanted to see that side of him, but the soft brush of her thumb over his hand seemed to be a gentle reminder that she was here and waiting for his answer, that she knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He swallowed thickly, deciding to go with the least detailed version of the story.

“I thought I could be a hero once, when I was a kid, but no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up being more of the problem than the solution. Every time I tried to help, it would end up making things worse.” A dark look crossed his face for a moment before he returned to normal. “So, I left home when I was 14 for Uni and never looked back.”

He lifted his gaze to find Simmons staring straight at him. He was sure a woman as smart as her would realize that wasn’t the whole story, but the look she was giving him made his heart jump. Maybe they were psychically-linked because somehow Fitz knew what that look meant, _it’s alright; I don’t need to know if it hurts that much._ He coughed awkwardly and took a long sip of his tea, not sure how much more of this he could take before he crumbled and gave in.

The break in eye contact seemed to do the trick and Simmons took a drink of her tea as well. Fitz’s gloved hands relaxed and Simmons threaded her fingers through his, humming contentedly.

The easiness of their relationship really struck him right then. It warmed him more than the cup of tea and terrified him more than her questions. He wondered if she could feel it too, if she was scared of how easily they were falling into place together. She was supposed to bring him in after all, but they were cultivating this deceivingly easy friendship more and more every time they were together.

He felt a spark at his fingertips and pulled his hands away. He busied himself with his tea again only to find the cup empty. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself this sort of thing and Fitz was going in far too fast for his liking.

_Slow down, ya' dumb git. You're gonna end up gettin' yourself into trouble doing things like that._

He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He over to see Simmons was looking at him with concern. His face heated up again. Fitz coughed again. 

"So, uh, why do you insist on being a hero? I mean, it can't be easy--playing hero all the time."

Simmons closed her eyes and hummed thoughtfully. Fitz was drawn to the way she pushed out her lips as she formed her answer.

"I don't think you can really call it  _playing_ hero. It's a serious job after all and lives are on the line. It can be difficult, especially the times when they're really was nothing I could've done to save someone. Some people can't be saved and that's hard to accept sometimes, but..." A soft smile formed on her face, "The times when I  _can_ save people are worth it--whether it's from some evil person or themselves." She shot him a meaningful look and Fitz resisted a groan.

"Evil person?" Fitz ignored her implication. "I don't believe that people are born evil."

Simmons shook her head, "Some are, FItz. It's in their DNA!"

Something dark and nauseating formed in the pit of his stomach. "We really gonna get into the nature versus nurture debate?"

"I suppose not," She acquiesced, seeming to sense his change in mood. "Then tell me, what part of Scotland are you from? I don't think you've mentioned it."

The subject change, while still lingering on his past, was not unwelcome. "Glasga," he responded, accent thick with the name.

"Oh? I've never been to Glasgow unfortunately. I've seen Perthshire, though. It was when I was a girl, but it was quite lovely."

Fitz wrinkled his nose at her pronunciation. "I didn't travel far from Glasga until I went to Uni, so I've never been to Perthshire. Most of Scotland's pretty nice though--barring the winter weather." He shivered just thinking about the chilly weather he'd known as a child. 

Simmons chuckled, "At least it's not as wet as England. I still find it strange that Americans don't carry umbrellas with them every day." She pulled out her umbrella, "I always take mine when I go out."

Fitz smiled. For the first time in a long time, thoughts of his childhood didn't seem so painful. He wondered if it was because of how long it'd been or if it was because of the woman in front of him. A niggling feeling behind his eyes made him snap out of his thoughts and frown.

"Your cell's going off."

Simmons looked at him in surprise. "Oh?" She pulled her phone out. "I forgot I had put it on silent..." Her face reddened. "I guess you really  _are_ a technopath."

Fitz shook his head, "You didn't get that from the other things I told you?" He rolled his eyes. "It's your director, yeah? You should probably take it."

She nodded and excused herself to call her superior. Fitz tuned out the buzzing in his mind telling him what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director was saying to Simmons. He had long since mastered the art of tuning things out that weren't his business even though his curious brain wondered what was going on. The buzzing stopped and Fitz noticed Simmons' flustered expression as she rushed back over.

"I'm sorry, FItz. The director needs me on a mission. I'll call you when I get back, alright?" She kissed him on the cheek, grabbed her bag, and left before Fitz even had the chance to say anything. He watched her fast-walk out with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

_She really is very... get-up-and-go isn't she?_

Fitz looked to where she had been sitting previously and noticed she'd forgotten something. With a tinge of horror, he realized she had left the iron pills on the table. He grabbed the bottle. It read:

_Take 3 500mg tablet(s) every 6-8 hours_

Fitz looked at his watch and started to calculate when she'd need it next based on when he assumed she got up in the morning. He didn't know how bad her anemia could get if she didn't take it, but it'd have to be in the next couple of hours. Fitz whipped out his phone and tried to call her, only to have it go to voicemail. Fitz cursed under his breath.

_Her phone must still be on silent._

Setting his phone on the table, Fitz focused on finding where S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base was. He mentally flipped through satellite images and frequencies within 60 miles of the coffee shop, looking for anything that could tell him where Simmons may have gone.

 _It's there_ , Fitz couldn't see anything other than a clearing in a nearby forest, but the interference he felt was exactly like the kind he got from cloaking devices like those that were standard-issue on S.H.I.E.L.D. transport. Leaving his empty cup on the table, Fitz grabbed the bottle of pills and nearly ran out of the shop. He cursed himself for his decision to walk to the coffee shop rather than take his bike. He swerved right and started running in the direction of the forest. People on the street gave him odd looks as he raced to the base, but he chose to ignore them.

Buildings came and went and soon he had come to the edge of town, adrenaline still pumping. He struggled to climb over a fence between him and the woods. The pause in running made his adrenaline fade and he slowed down, breathing in heavy gasps. The trees around him all looked the same but he was beginning to sense the interference again, so he walked towards the strengthening buzz of cloaking tech.

After some time walking to catch his breath, Fitz came upon the empty field and immediately knew he'd been right. The cloaking interference was even stronger now that he was near it. He walked around the clearing, searching for a way in.

_Where's the bloody emergency release?_

Before he could find what he was looking for, the cloaking interference came to a stop and the plane appeared. A click behind his ear caught his attention and he turned to find a gun pointed at his head. An older woman in a catsuit glared at him from behind the gun.

"What do you think you're doing?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's moving kind of fast, but I just imagine them clicking really easily once they put their trivial differences aside. It'll slow down a bit as I write the chapters, but they have a very... volatile kind of relationship at first.
> 
> edit: changed helicarrier to be the Bus


End file.
